


Satisfaction

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reference to Consensual Somnophilia, Titfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Linhardt is a wonderful boyfriend, but he can be a real ass sometimes.Or, Linhardt is really into Caspar’s tits.(reuploaded)
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Kudos: 33





	Satisfaction

Caspar can’t take it anymore.

“Nnn—Linhardt! Please!”

How long has it been? Hours? Days? How much torture must he endure for Linhardt’s entertainment?

“Just— _ahh_ —wanna come!”

But it’s impossible when all Linhardt will touch are his damn nipples.

His please don’t get him any sympathy, just a little sigh and another pinch to start the cycle again: get one nipple hard, tease it soft, rinse and repeat on the other side. Linhardt rolls the little thing between his fingers and Caspar sucks in air through his teeth. His cock is a pathetic, dripping mess. It’s hard enough having Linhardt naked and pressed against him, and he literally can’t keep it up much longer.

“I can tell you’re close,” Linhardt says, flattening the peak with the pad of his thumb. He circles it slowly, pressing just hard enough to keep Caspar on the edge. His nipples aren’t even that sensitive—it’s the denial that’s killing him, but Linhardt is content to treat him like some kind of sexual science experiment. 

“I’m going to explode if you don’t hurry up!” Caspar keeps his hands flat on the mattress beneath his ass. He has to—he’s one twitch away from touching himself, Linhardt, or both of them at once.

“That’s the idea.” Linhardt yawns. “But I suppose I can give you a little more.” 

Caspar should have known better than to his hopes up. All Linhardt does is play rougher with the other nipple, tugging and twisting and, okay, it feels pretty fucking good, but...

“Linhardt, please!”

But it would feel fucking better if Linhardt would just suck his cock like a good boyfriend, or at least let Caspar fucking _touch him._

Okay, Caspar feels guilty the moment the thought crosses his mind (or maybe that’s just his nipples burning—they edged into pain a while ago). Linhardt is a wonderful boyfriend, but he can be a real ass sometimes.

He blows on Caspar’s chest to soothe the ache, but it just makes Caspar squirm and shiver. Another round of this will do him in, and not in the way he needs. “Please, Linhardt, I can't—”

“Yes you can.” Linhardt’s focus won’t be broken. “You can do anything, Caspar. Surely you can come for me, can’t you?”

His voice is low and rich, but at this point Caspar’s cock is almost immune. It just pulses out another unsatisfying bead of precome. “You're a healer. Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Is that what you want?” Linhardt shifts so he’s half on top of Caspar, hip so tantalizingly close the temptation to rub off on him is all-consuming. 

Before he can, Linhardt palms both his nipples at once.

_ “Haa-aah!” _ They’re so raw and it’s too much, but Linhardt isn’t done. He drags his hands down Caspar’s chest, rubbing his muscles. The massage feels distractingly good after all the teasing and pain, and then—“Linhardt!”

Lindhardt goes back to toying with him, running his fingertips back and forth over the hard peaks until tears start to sting Caspar’s eyes.

_ “Fuck…”  _ The curse rolls off his tongue slowly, like his orgasm finally rolling through him, radiating from his chest and cock in dull pulses. It’s a relief, and yet the pleasure never quite hits that satisfying, toe-curling note he loves. 

“You did it,” Linhardt says, smiling as he releases Caspar. “I knew you could.”

Praise tips the scales a little closer to gratification, and Caspar basks in the glow of it. He came all over himself, and Linhardt’s thigh, too, but they’ll worry about that later. His pride comes back, too. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Never.” Linhardt runs a hand through the mess on his leg, then wipes it on his side. “Fascinating trajectory. By the way, you can do whatever you want to me once you’ve recovered.”

“Whatever I want?” And just like that, Caspar’s second wind comes on. “You sure?”

Linhardt nods sleepily, like he’s the one who just got edged into a weird orgasm. “I trust you.”

Those three little words spark flames in Caspar’s belly and he beckons Linhardt onto him with both hands. “Bring that hot cock of yours up here.”

Again, he should have known better. Linhardt rolls into his back, cock flopping from one thigh to the other. “On second thought, you may do anything that doesn’t require me to move.” 

Caspar shakes his head, not out of disbelief but amusement. That’s his Linhardt, lazy and pliant, and Caspar wouldn’t want him any other way. 

“Works for me.” He scoots down the bed and positions himself between Linhardt’s legs to take care of the first order of business: wake him up. His soft little cock looks like a meal after that meager appetizer, and Caspar’s mouth waters.

He’s not patient like Linhardt; he takes the whole thing at once. It’s easy when it’s small, and the feeling of Linhardt swelling in his mouth is incredible. For both of them, apparently, because little hums slip past Linhardt’s lips as blood rushes his cock, filling him, pressing on his tongue, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. 

Caspar hasn’t sucked a lot of cocks in his life, but he’s positive Linhardt’s is the sweetest in the world. It must be all that sorbet he eats, because his come tastes pretty good too, and all those gasps and moans mean Caspar’s about to get a belly full of it. For such a patient guy, Linhardt is pretty close to the edge.

As tempting as it is to just take him there, the sheets are chafing Caspar’s chest, and sucking Linhardt off is too easy. Almost like a reward. Linhardt deserves a little payback, and maybe since he’s so obsessed with Caspar’s tits, he should spend some more quality time with them. Between them, even.

That settles it. Caspar bounces up, leaving Linhardt’s cock wet and hanging. 

“Caspar…” To anyone else, Linhardt would sound only mildly annoyed, but that tone means he’s pissed. “I was very close.”

“Shh!” Caspar needs to focus. How is he going to manage this without making Linhardt sit on him? He’s not a miracle worker, and the clock is ticking. Once that spit dries, he’s screwed. 

Eh, Caspar was never good with logistics. He gets his best results when he just goes for it.

He pounces, trapping Linhardt’s cock between their bodies and lining it up with his sternum. Linhardt chokes on his name, nails scraping at the sheets. Goddess, it feels good to rattle him.

Caspar braces Linhardt’s dick to his pecs, squeezing them together as best as he can with one hand. It would be easier if Linhardt would thrust into him, but Caspar isn't going to get that, so he does the next best thing: he starts humping the bed. It’s far from elegant and the friction lights his nipples on fucking fire, but it’s all worth it because Linhardt quickly loses his mind.

“Fuck, Caspar—your chest, I—fuck!” 

Linhardt never curses, and it hits Caspar in the dick. Soon, he’s hard again, throbbing and leaking all over the mattress as he thrusts. He works up a sweat that eases the glide, and the view is amazing: Linhardt writhing before him, eyes closed and mouth open in bliss. He’s actually moving, fumbling for any part of Caspar he can reach. Just that leaves Caspar breathless, and when Linhardt yanks a fistful of his chest hair, it almost sends him over the edge.

True to form, Linhardt only manages it once before he’s too far gone to do anything but shudder and moan. Caspar speeds up, squeezing Linhardt’s cock even tighter. He’s never seen Linhardt this engorged before and fuck, it’s hypnotic, watching the swollen head emerge and retreat beneath his hand. Linhardt keeps getting louder and less coherent, but his garbled warning comes too late. 

“I’m—watch out!” Hot come splatters Caspar’s face. The pulses keep coming, smearing everywhere and fueling Caspar into a breakneck rhythm that rubs his cock against the sheets just right. It’s getting hard to stay upright. Tremors shake his knees, his feet, his balls, his oversensitive nipples, and when Linhardt’s fingernails graze his scalp, Caspar falls apart.

Coming inside Linhardt is still Caspar’s favorite by far, but this is closer. He braces the mattress to support himself through his release, but he can only last so long. He collapses, his heaving chest sticking to Linhardt’s stomach, and for a while, neither of them can move.

Long after Caspar recovers, Linhardt is still starfished on the bed, babbling. It’s a good feeling.

“You really,” Caspar pants, “like my tits, huh?”

Linhardt lifts his neck off the pillow and Caspar blinks in surprise. That’s more than he usually moves after sex.

“I thought thirty-six minutes of continuous nipple stimulation would have made that clear.” 

“What? It was way longer than that!” Caspar pushes himself up indignantly and gestures to his nipples. “Look how red they are!” 

Linhardt murmurs a healing spell and sweeps his fingers over them. It tickles—both the magic and his touch—and Caspar tingles down to his dick. He’s no stranger to faith magic (especially at Linhardt’s gifted hands) but it’s never felt like that before.

“Better?” Linhardt’s head lolls back onto the pillow and his arm falls limply to his side. “I know it feels good, and you can fuck me if you need to get off again, but do try not to wake me up.”

That sends Caspar’s brain in nine different directions. How does Linhardt know it feels good? Does Linhardt want Caspar to fuck him in his sleep? And why haven’t they used magic during sex before? 

All questions that can wait. Linhardt’s snoring and Caspar needs to take care of the mess. If he hurries, he can squeeze in some training before dinner. 

Linhardt doesn’t stir when Caspar cleans him up—heat pools low in his gut at the possibilities—but Caspar just tucks him into bed and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Training awaits. Besides, there’s a pretty good chance Linhardt will sleep through dinner, and Caspar can think of a few creative ways to wake him up.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this bit of Casphardt tiddy indulgence. Sorry for the reupload.


End file.
